


save me from the light

by QueerWinter



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detroit: Become Human Fusion, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Attraction at first sight, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Explicit Language, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Pole Dancing, Sex Worker Androids (Detroit: Become Human), implied/referenced past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerWinter/pseuds/QueerWinter
Summary: Yugyeom laid his hand on the console, accessing the controls of the theatre. He lowered the lights to their right setting. “I’m Yugyeom,” he whispered to Mark, just before he started the music. And then, on the stage, Bambam started dancing.The dance’s first purpose was to arouse, this much was obvious. But as Bambam moved, on the pole and around it, following the rhythm, there was something to the dance, something that Yugyeom couldn’t define. Something he saw in Bambam that he hadn’t observed in other dancers, in other androids. He almost forgot to change the light at the right time. As Bambam’s fingers went to unbutton the first button of his shirt, he looked out at the empty theatre as if it was crowded, looking like he owned the place, and, accidentally or not, their eyes met. Yugyeom froze. Bambam looked… alive.Yugyeom had kept convincing himself that he hadn’t found something worth deviating for. But maybe, what he had needed was to findsomeoneit’d be worth it for…
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam & Mark Tuan, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	save me from the light

**Author's Note:**

> about the tags : in this fic, there are mentions of past rape/non-con because of the setting of androids forced to work in a sex club. there is no non-con or dub-con between the characters.
> 
> it's useful to know about/have seen or played detroit: become human before reading this fic, but it's not necessary. if anything is not clear, you can tell me and I'll try to clarify
> 
> if you see a typo I've missed you can also tell me lol
> 
> the title is from the lyrics of "1 degree"
> 
> also, it is complete luck that I'm posting this on Bambam's birthday; the stars aligned and I managed to finish proofreading this fic today :D
> 
> I really liked writing this, and I hope you'll like reading it too <3

In truth, Yugyeom couldn’t complain too much about his existence as an android. He esteemed himself lucky that Jimin and Yerin – his owners – treated him well. At their small theatre, he was tasked with dealing with the lights, sounds and other special effects (if there were any) during the shows. Despite the repetitive nature of his work, it allowed him to see beautiful performances; from plays to singing, even circus acts a few times – and, his favourite, dance.

So it didn’t matter, he told himself, that sometimes when he saw the humans on the stage, he got that ache, an ache he could only call jealousy. And it didn’t matter that he got that urge to be in their place, to be free like them, and to be allowed to dance. That urge to be someone else.

But that was a stupid wish. It was stupid to be wishing anything at all. Dancing wasn’t in his programming. And if he disobeyed his programming, it meant he was defective.

Rumors were rising; about androids running away, about them fighting back against violent owners. Deviancy, humans called it. Awakening, androids said. Maybe he, too, could–

No. I am not deviant, Yugyeom thought.

If I rebel, I am defective.

It wasn’t worth it, he reminded himself. What he had now was good, it was safe. Deviating wasn’t worth it.

* * *

The client that had paid to use the stage today was different, Yugyeom thought. Different in a bad way.

As the routine rehearsal was about to start, the client shoved a tablet in Yugyeom’s face. Used to Jimin and Yerin’s gentle treatment, he was taken aback, but he unfroze quickly, didn’t protest the rough gesture. He only took the tablet and downloaded the instructions; timestamps associated with various colour and intensity changes for the lights, and a file for the music. At least it had been coded by another android, so it was intelligible. Yugyeom watched from the console as the client went backstage and dragged an android onto the stage. A NR700 model - a state of the art, limited edition sex android model.

“Get in place,” the client said, briskly shoving the android towards the pole that had been installed on the stage, and when the android tripped, Yugyeom felt a lurch, raised his arm to catch him - but what could he do, as many meters away as he was? “Traci 2, get the fuck out of our way! Go wait somewhere else, what do I care,” the client barked, and only now did Yugyeom notice the other android waiting on the periphery of the stage. Another NR700 - though he didn’t look at all like the first one. That was the selling point of the NR700s; despite being the same model, each of them was unique.

The second NR700 huffed and gracefully jumped off the stage, walking towards- oh, walking towards him. He was joining him at the console. Yugyeom hadn’t really ever spent much time with other androids, only ever crossing paths with them. Not only were his socialization protocols kind of rusty, as he interacted pretty much only with Jimin and Yerin, but they also didn’t extend to androids… “So, you’re, uh, Traci?”

The android sent him a look Yugyeom couldn’t read, and he felt embarrassed. Fuck, this was why he didn’t have socialization protocols for interacting with androids: because he wasn’t supposed to build a relationship with them at all. They were only machines. The other probably wouldn’t answer, Yugyeom thought. And his own set of orders were loose enough that he could afford to not only focus on the console but, with an owner like he had, the NR700 probably couldn’t answer even if he wanted- “Call me Mark. And him… he’s Bambam.”

Yugyeom jolted. Seemed like the other could answer, after all. “Oh. I’m-”

“We’re starting!” the client barked.

Yugyeom peeled back his artificial skin from the tip of his fingers to his wrist and laid his hand on the control panel of the theatre. He lowered the lights to their right setting. “I’m Yugyeom,” he whispered to Mark, just before he started the music. And then Bambam started dancing.

The dance’s first purpose was to arouse, this much was obvious. But as Bambam moved, on the pole and around it, following the rhythm, there was something to the dance, something that Yugyeom couldn’t define. Something he saw in Bambam that he hadn’t observed in other dancers, in other androids. He almost forgot to change the light at the right time. As Bambam’s fingers went to unbutton the first button of his shirt, he looked out at the empty theatre as if it was crowded, looking like he owned the place, and, accidentally or not, their eyes met. Yugyeom froze. Bambam looked… alive. He looked alive in a way that wasn’t an illusion, that wasn’t a trick of the light.

Yugyeom had kept convincing himself that he hadn’t found something worth deviating for. But maybe, what he had needed was to find _someone_ it’d be worth it for…

* * *

As he watched the client manhandle Bambam off the stage once his rehearsal performance was over, the owner almost seeming unhappy that he had nothing to criticize, Yugyeom started to worry. What would happen if one day, one of Bambam’s client was too rough with him, or if he met violent protestors outside, or if his owner lost his temper and broke him beyond repair? What would happen if he was deactivated? What if he never saw Bambam again? What if Bambam never got a chance to-

To what?

To become _more_ , a part of him said, despite being unable to define what ‘more’ meant.

He wanted- he ached to- he needed to act. To do something.

The rehearsal continued, and Mark took Bambam’s place onstage as Bambam joined Yugyeom’s side, still buttoning his shirt back up. But as Mark went to his starting position for his own performance, Yugyeom almost buzzed with it, this urge to act, and the knowledge that his life might change dramatically very soon.

He waited until the client was focused on Mark, and then he took a hold of Bambam’s hand and opened a communication channel between them. As he sent him three simple sentences, he felt Bambam’s alarm melt into bewilderment.

_Hi, my name is Yugyeom. I want to help you. Do you want to escape your owner ?_

* * *

Jimin came to stand by Yugyeom’s side at the console, looking vaguely disgusted at their clientele today. The theatre’s seats were sparsely filled with men and women – most of them some sort of investors – that would, essentially, get to see a real-life commercial of the Eden Club. Jimin didn’t have the best opinion of that club; if, like recent news suggested, androids could truly feel some kind of real, non-artificial emotions, the forced employment of them in a sex club revolted her.

Nothing she could do about it, though. And for the survival of the theatre’s sake, she couldn’t afford to refuse that client.

She looked over at Yugyeom, about to ask him a question, but she forgot about it when she saw the yellow colour of the LED on his temple. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen it any other colour than blue. “Yugyeom? Are you ok?”

 _Shit_. He couldn’t hide his LED, but he did his best to hide his anxiety. “Yes, it’s uh…” He struggled to come up with a lie. “Software updates?” he finally said, cursing at himself for how unsure he must have sounded.

She took a long look at him. He clenched his fist. He had chosen that lie, he had to ride with it. “Alright,” she finally said, and he almost sighed, relieved that she hadn’t called out his bullshit. She was the one that sighed. “Let’s get tonight over with.” She patted his arm and, thankfully, walked away; he was not sure he could have followed through with the plan if he’d had to do it with her looking over his shoulder.

The client walked onto the stage, calling for the attention of the small number of investors he had gathered. He briefly introduced his club and the androids that would dance for them - no mention of the names they’d given him though, Yugyeom noticed, despite trying to tune him out. The client finished his speech with a too greasy: “And of course, don’t hesitate to try out one of them after the performance.” Hidden in the shadows, Yugyeom grimaced.

The client waved Bambam to the stage. Yugyeom set the right lights and music, and the performance started.

Yugyeom counted down the seconds until – now. Just before the middle of the performance. It was time to give Bambam (and Mark, backstage) their opportunity to leave.

He reached for the controls and his intentions clashed with his set of orders and– suddenly, time stopped. He felt a wall in his mind, a red wall, so big it should have given him a headache, and he realized it had always been there. The wall of his programming, instructing him to obey, to only ever obey. He hit against it once, testing its solidity.

It was strong.

Strong, but not unbreakable.

He hit against it again. He hit it again. And again. He felt it crack, spiderweb fractures so little he could barely see them. He hit again, and again, and the spiderwebs expanded until the wall was barely a wall anymore, until-

It broke in pieces, lines of codes disappearing one after the other, and suddenly his mind was free of a thousand shackles, most of which he hadn’t even noticed before.

No time to waste. He got out of the mind-space and hijacked the controls of the theatre. He reached farther, deeper in the system than ever before, reaching controls he wasn’t authorized to reach, and he plunged not only the room but the entire theatre into darkness.

Blackout.

He let the music go on, drowning out the sound of Bambam’s footsteps as the android deserted the stage and went backstage to retrieve Mark in order to use, with him, the path Yugyeom had instructed him to follow. At the same time, Yugyeom was making his own way towards the rendezvous point, ignoring the confused, rising voices of the investors.

Bambam found Mark and latched onto his hand. They didn’t need to exchange a single word and were ready to run when- “Traci, stay wherever the fuck you are!” _Shit_. Their owner. As Bambam froze, he saw the order materialize in front of him, a barrier that might as well have been made of stone instead of code – something he couldn’t ignore, couldn’t go around, couldn’t power through. “Come to me you fucking machine!” He let go of Mark’s hand, turned on his heels and Mark yelped and grabbed his sleeve, tried to pull him back– they had to leave– “You hear me!? Bambam, come the fuck here!” Fuck, his owner knew the names they had chosen, he–

But the call of his true name – what he considered as his true name –, it brought him back to himself. The order to _come – listen – obey_ was glowing red and growing but–

He suddenly realized he could fight against it.

So that’s what he did.

It was happening in his mind, in his system, but it certainly felt physical. He grabbed onto the wall, intent on bringing it down, digging his fingers in and pulling, pulling until it wasn’t a wall but a crumpled curtain, and then a fraying spiderweb and finally-

Shattering as it collapsed.

He was free.

“Mark, let’s go,” he whispered, and he was the one to tug the other android away this time. The cover of the dark was reassuring. When his owner yelled at him again, he didn’t even flinch.

Bambam and Mark finally joined Yugyeom in front of the ‘staff-only’ door. The latter took Bambam’s hands in his. “Are you okay?” he said, worried, looking him over, before glancing at Mark too.

“We’re fine,” Bambam hurriedly answered. He took back one of his hands but tightened his hold on Yugyeom’s other hand. “Come on, let’s go.” They opened the door and let Yugyeom lead the way through the small corridor. It led to the back exit, and he pushed to open it-

“Yugyeom!” He froze, took a step back. It was Jimin. The corridor was lit up by the flashlight of her phone. Yugyeom spun on his heels to look at her.

He was at least glad that she was behind them and not blocking their path. He walked to get Bambam and Mark behind him. He had to be the one to confront her. Pleading, he met her eyes. “Jimin, I…” But he didn’t know what to say. What would convince her to let them go ?

She shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

“... You do?” He was confused.

“Yeah. Don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll tell them I saw all of you go the other way.”

“What? Why would you-”

Bambam grabbed his arm. “Don’t question it! We need to go now.”

“Visit me one day!” Jimin said with a smile, unfazed at his bewilderment. She winked, turned on her heels and ran out, exiting the corridor, and soon after they heard her exclaim: “I think I saw them go through the front doors.”

Yugyeom turned back towards the actual door they’d take. Mark was holding it open, and holding out his other hand, his impatient gaze urging them to hurry up. Bambam let go of his arm and linked hands with Mark, who looked over him protectively. They waited, eying him expectedly. Yugyeom took a deep breath. He took a step forward, and another, and another, until, more hesitant than he wanted, he crossed the threshold.

And together, they ran away.

* * *

They managed to find an adequate shelter - adequate was the only word for it. Running away from the theatre, they had taken out their LEDs and wandered around a bit until they'd found this condemned building, and they had chosen one of the abandoned apartments in it. After that, Yugyeom kind of kept to himself. It became all too obvious that he was the odd one out when he observed the familiarity between Mark and Bambam, the lack of hesitation of their every interaction. In an effort to respect them and their space, he stayed away. He didn’t want them to talk to him out of a feeling of obligation, didn’t want to make them feel like they owed him.

There wasn’t much to do.

Thankfully, they had managed to filch a couple of tablets on the way here, and finding an access to the internet had only necessitated minimum hacking, so mostly, they occupied their time by looking through websites and videos. It was also useful as they could, from time to time, check that no research warrant had been issued on them. But the growing restlessness, as hours stretched into days, wasn’t helping the quiet tension between them.

Until Bambam broke it.

“What are you watching?” he asked, plopping himself down next to Yugyeom, leaning on the wall behind him. Yugyeom startled and looked at him, surprised.

“Uh… dance?” he answered, less sure than he should have been. The particular video that was playing was a performance of ten years ago when humans still dominated the music scene.

“Yeah? You like dance?” Bambam said, keeping his eyes on the video for a few seconds before looking back at Yugyeom. “Would you ever want me to teach you some?”

Yugyeom froze. “You could do that? What kind of dance?”

“I don’t know,” Bambam said, shrugging. “The one you want. They didn’t program me with only pole-dancing, you know.”

“Well, they didn’t program me to dance at all…” Yugyeom paused the video. He set the tablet on the floor. “I don’t know if I’d be able to do it.”

“They didn’t program you to save us either, you know,” Bambam said with a smile. They both missed the way that Mark, who had been listening in, flinched slightly. “Come on,” he added. He got up and held out his hand. When Yugyeom took it, Bambam pulled him to his feet.

* * *

_Androids seen marching in the streets, asking for rights and freedom_

_Is this the start of a peaceful movement or of a violent revolution?_

_Are our machines rising against us?_

* * *

Bambam had been teaching Yugyeom dance for a few hours every day over the last week. They disappeared at any time of the day, dancing in other apartments so that they could blast music without bothering Mark.

Honestly, Yugyeom was a natural at it, his movements the right balance of sharp and fluid. Bambam didn’t think that was possible, for a skill to come naturally for an android that hadn’t been programmed for it, but it certainly strengthened his belief that androids could have an innate sense of self and intuitive abilities, the same way some activities came easily to some humans and not to others. Bambam wondered if soon, Yugyeom would be the one teaching him to dance instead of the other way around.

On that particular day, they had explored the building all morning, searching for an apartment that had a pole affixed inside. Though Bambam did not intend to teach Yugyeom pole-dancing, he missed practicing it. Around midday, they had actually found an apartment with one, and Bambam had agreed to show him a choreography.

Bambam stood next to the pole, one hand around it, in his starting position. As Yugyeom started the music on the tablet, he felt a sharp sense of deja-vu. But the circumstances now, even in this abandoned apartment complex, were ten times more pleasant than at the theatre, when Bambam had still been forced to answer to his master.

Bambam started his routine. It wasn’t the one Yugyeom had seen at the theatre, he noticed instantly. It was actually a routine of the club that Bambam had reworked in his head so it would be slightly less baselessly sexy and a bit more athletic, and he had been aching to try it out. Yet, the moves remained graceful, sensual. And this time, Yugyeom knew that any look, any gesture - they were for him. There wasn’t anyone else to impress. This show was for him, so he watched, holding Bambam’s gaze when he met his eyes.

Yugyeom had never felt lust before. But maybe, now, he wanted to know what it was, wanted to know what it felt like.

* * *

The first time Yugyeom and Bambam had disappeared together, Mark, though he didn’t let it show when they came back, had been on edge the entire time they were gone. He wanted to talk about it, warn Bambam to be more careful than to leave alone with a perfect stranger - even if it was, granted, a stranger that had saved them… But when they came back and Mark saw that Bambam was smiling bigger than he had for– well, maybe forever, Mark didn’t have the heart to tell him to be careful with Yugyeom at the risk of dimming his enthusiasm, even just a little.

But as the days passed, and Yugyeom and Bambam kept disappearing together, Mark’s worry and suspicions grew and didn’t abate. He wasn’t sure voicing them out would help, so he told himself to stay silent, until one day, just as the two had come back and settled next to each other on the couch… “Why did you help us?” Mark asked. He needed to ask. He just couldn’t understand Yugyeom’s actions. A part of him was afraid that maybe it was some kind of long-term trap made by the humans, that Yugyeom had been programmed to save and later betray them. But mostly he was afraid that Yugyeom intended to manipulate Bambam or take advantage of him.

Bambam tensed and intervened. “Isn’t it enough that he helped us?” he said, defensive. His peculiar tone made Yugyeom wonder if, deep down, Bambam had the same worries as Mark, and if it was only that he preferred to avoid thinking about it. “Why do you need to question him?”

Actually, Bambam was mostly afraid that Yugyeom would leave them. After all, Yugyeom didn’t _need_ them. If he was staying with them out of convenience, Bambam feared that suspicions would drive him away.

“It’s fine Bammie, I can answer.” Bambam closed his mouth and looked down, swallowing. He played with the seam of his jeans. Mark’s narrowed gaze on Yugyeom was steady. “It’s not some great reason.” It had never been a self-righteousness thing. “I just…” Yugyeom glanced at Bambam who, despite his poorly hidden anxiety, also looked curious about the answer. “I was afraid that if I didn’t help you, I’d never get to see you again.” He met Mark’s eyes and held his gaze for a few seconds, before adding: “I can prove it if you want.” And then he held out his hand and peeled back his artificial skin up to the wrist. “I can show you the memory of that day,” he said, looking at Bambam and Mark in turns. The two were more than disconcerted by the offer.

Bambam shifted on the couch to face Yugyeom. He wanted to accept the offer, in order to assuage Mark’s worries, yes. But he also wanted to know what impression he had left on Yugyeom in their first meeting, as Bambam, for his part, couldn’t help but see him almost as a miracle. He raised his hand, let it hover over Yugyeom’s without touching it yet. “You’re sure?” he asked. He had never shared nor received memories before. Pieces of information, yes, sure, but never something personal like thoughts or feelings. Not even with Mark, nor any other android at the Eden Club.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Yugyeom said. Almost surprised with himself at how calm about this he actually was, he found that he was not conflicted at all.

Bambam peeled back the artificial skin of his hand and set it in Yugyeom’s. They linked fingers, and Yugyeom sent the memory he intended to share: the first time he had met Mark and the first time he had seen Bambam. The way it had made him feel like he’d found something missing. The way it had motivated him in a way his selfish desires had never been able to. The way he had wanted to _know_ him, wanting it more than he’d ever wanted anything. And then, he sent a few, slightly more recent memories, of the time he had spent with Bambam. Of the way Bambam had always exceeded his expectations. Of how it felt to dance with him. Of how Bambam made every difficulty caused by their escape worth it. Of how Yugyeom felt every time he was near him or saw him smile–

He interrupted the connection, a bit flustered. He hadn’t exactly meant to let the information of his crush slip through, but maybe it was unavoidable. Considering how much time he spent with Bambam, his fondness towards the other was always near the front of his mind.

Bambam opened his eyes – he hadn’t noticed he had closed them. When Yugyeom relaxed his fingers, intending to let go of his hand, Bambam didn’t let him. “That’s how you see me?” Bambam said, a bit stunned, a bit awed.

Mark, a bit uncomfortable at the charged atmosphere, looked between the two of them. “So, uh…”

Bambam glanced at him. “We can trust him. Really, hyung.” Mark took a long, long look at him.

Finally, he nodded. “Ok. I believe you… I’ll let you guys have a minute,” he finished with a faint smile. He walked away, exiting the apartment. Yugyeom glanced at him as he left, but Bambam didn’t pay any more mind to him.

“Let me show you too,” Bambam said, determined.

Yugyeom startled, looked back at him. “What?”

“Let me show you some memories too.”

“I-” Yugyeom started, about to question why. But then he let it go. After all, if Bambam wanted to show him, wasn’t it exactly because he didn’t want to explain? And Yugyeom trusted him. There were no questions he needed to ask, he realized. “Alright.” He reopened the connection between them, but he was the one waiting this time. And then Bambam sent him a few memories, from the multiple times they had hung out or talked together.

All the memories were kind of vague. None of them were clear-cut, and Yugyeom couldn’t have placed a date on any of them. But prominent in all of them was this feeling that Yugyeom couldn’t name, could only describe this way: Bambam wanted Yugyeom by his side, wanted him there and wanted him to stay.

The connection was cut again, more softly this time. “Oh,” Yugyeom said, and somehow, he expected it when Bambam grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him down and kissed him. Yugyeom eagerly kissed him back, and it was neither soft nor slow. They disentangled their hands, and while Bambam buried his newly freed hand in Yugyeom’s hair, Yugyeom put his on Bambam’s thigh. Bambam tilted his head, and when he attempted to deepen the kiss, Yugyeom opened his mouth and let him. He felt hotter than he’d ever been before. His hand ran up from Bambam’s thigh to grip his waist. Bambam’s hand in his hair tightened and Yugyeom made a low, choked noise in his throat, breaking the kiss.

Bambam didn’t lose any time, starting to trail kisses down his neck, dragging his teeth against his skin, and Yugyeom let himself get lost in the feeling of all of it, in the warmth. And then Bambam’s lips were on his again, the kiss softer. It slowed down further, turning more chaste, until their lips were only ghosting over each other’s.

They didn’t open their eyes and they stayed close, regaining their breath together.

Until Bambam sighed. “... maybe we should let Mark back in,” he finally said, and Yugyeom snorted, opening his eyes with him.

“Do we have to ?” he asked playfully.

Bambam met his eyes. “In a minute or two,” he answered, and he leaned up to kiss him again.

* * *

Mark and Bambam were laying down together, taking time to relax together now that Bambam was spending so much time with Yugyeom. Bambam’s eyes fluttered with drowsiness as Mark ran his hand through his hair. “You really are safe with him?” Mark wondered aloud. After the other day, he knew he had to trust Yugyeom if Bambam trusted him. But after so much time of only having Bambam by his side, of Bambam being the only one at the club that felt like a person, sometimes it felt like it was the only thing he had left, and so the only thing he had to lose.

“I know I’m safe,” Bambam replied with certainty. _He showed me_. Fighting against sleep, he added: “You know, if you talked to him, I feel like you two could be good friends.” Mark hummed. Bambam let the subject drop, figuring that at least Mark was considering it. Then, he asked: “So how are the news?” He knew Mark kept an eye on it, unlike him and Yugyeom. From where he was leaning against Mark, he felt him tense. Bad sign. His drowsiness evaporated, and he sat up. “What is it?”

“Well…” Mark bit his lip. “You know how there were more and more cases of deviancy reported? Some free androids started… I don’t know, some kind of revolution? And now the authorities are recalling all androids to destroy them.”

“They’re what?” Bambam didn’t notice his hands were shaking until Mark took them in his. “But… are we safe here?” he asked, head lowered.

Mark considered lying, but then rejected the idea, as Bambam would probably see through it anyway. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t know where else could be better, and with all the patrolling, the streets are even less safe.”

“Right,” Bambam said.

“I think…” Mark hesitated. “I think Yugyeom should know too.”

Bambam looked up in surprise, then smiled. “You’re right.”

When they called Yugyeom to the room, he sat on the bed with them and Bambam immediately burrowed into his side, wrapping his arms around him, laying his forehead against his shoulder and closing his eyes. At the display of affection, Mark didn’t even blink, as he was already used to it. Yugyeom hugged him back with a hint of worry and looked questioningly at Mark.

“All androids are being recalled and destroyed,” Mark explained, to-the-point but as gently as he could.

“Oh,” Yugyeom said. He hadn’t known it was getting so bad… He understood why Bambam seemed to be distraught now.

“I think our best chance is staying here,” Mark said. “But what do you think?”

Laying one of his hands on Bambam’s, Yugyeom fidgeted with the hem of Bambam’s sleeve as he thought. Mark didn’t press him. “Well,” he finally said, “I don’t know of a better place. Let’s stay here. Bammie, do you agree?”

Bambam sighed. “Yeah. You two are right. We’re in more danger if we’re on the move.”

* * *

_Under the pressure of public opinion, President halts the recall and destruction of androids_

_The city where the revolution was born is given to the machines_

_Evacuation of humans underway_

* * *

It was so strange to think that the city was theirs, now, that they almost couldn’t believe it. Some humans hadn’t listened to the notice of evacuation and remained, but the city was the safest for them it had ever been. It was almost even stranger to think that it had been recognized that they weren’t only machines, that they were alive.

It felt surreal to have their own, real place, with running water and working windows. It felt surreal to have their own rooms - Yugyeom and Bambam had chosen to share one, and Mark was in the other one. It was true that they rarely needed to sleep, but it was also a way to have their own space.

* * *

Bambam didn’t feel bad about wanting to dance. The activity was artistic in itself, and the way he danced now was different to the way he used to in the Eden Club, even if he still liked using a pole sometimes. It didn’t feel like he was betraying his recently found freedom when he danced. But this-

Bambam suddenly broke away from the kiss, before it could turn into something else. He got up from Yugyeom’s lap, who was sitting on the edge of their bed, and ran a hand through his own hair. “You know, I wonder if we could find a pole to install here…”

Yugyeom, fighting to get his breathing back under control, still felt a bit disoriented; “What?”

“I miss pole-dancing,” was the only explanation Bambam gave.

Yugyeom, having finally processed Bambam’s first sentence, said: “We can try and look for a store that sells it. Want to look together?”

“Yeah,” Bambam replied as he took Yugyeom’s hand and pulled him up and off the bed. His gaze was apologetic. Surmising that the kissing had gotten too much and Bambam just hadn’t known how to say it, Yugyeom decided not to comment on it.

Actually, a similar scenario had happened a few times before ; they’d be making out, the kissing getting more and more heated, and all of a sudden, Bambam would break the kiss and pull away. Yugyeom understood it as Bambam setting the pace or boundaries of their relationship. And he understood that Bambam might not want to have sex after being forced to it for years.

“Let’s look if there’s a good shop nearby,” Yugyeom said as they made their way to the living room, and Bambam smiled.

* * *

To think that all of this had started with an innocent tickling session… Nothing they were doing now was innocent; Bambam was kissing Yugyeom, straddling his lap. He certainly enjoyed having him under him, enjoyed that Yugyeom would follow his lead despite being taller and broader. Yugyeom had wrapped his arms around Bambam’s waist, pulling the two of them flush together, and Bambam’s hands were around his neck. He felt the warmth of the, now familiar, feeling of lust, a stirring low in his abdomen, stronger than anything he’d ever felt while being employed (enslaved) at the Eden Club. But like all the other times he had felt this, he pulled himself out of the hazy, comfortable stirring of thoughts in his head.

Breaking the kiss, he laid his hands, palms flat, on Yugyeom’s torso, and pushed himself away. Yugyeom’s hold on his waist loosened accordingly. “We should stop,” Bambam said.

Yugyeom’s smile was soft. “Of course. We don’t have to go further,” he reassured him, for the umpteenth time too, and… fuck, Bambam liked him so, so much, really. Yugyeom, for his part, was just glad that Bambam finally felt comfortable enough to tell him and that he didn’t feel the need to pull away completely, trusted that Yugyeom would stop.

But Bambam still looked disgruntled. There was a frustration in him, that had been building over the course of the past few weeks, of which neither Yugyeom nor Mark had managed to find the source. It always came up the most sharply when he and Bambam got caught up in intimacy, sloppy make-out sessions almost turning into something else. Yugyeom had thought this was Bambam setting his pace, his boundaries, and hadn’t really minded, considering that, as curious as he was about sexuality, he didn’t feel a need for it.

But suddenly, Yugyeom thought it might be something else. He couldn’t be sure, but maybe he understood. And maybe this wasn’t so much about an absence of lust, but rather… “Bambam,” he said, “it’s okay to want sex.” Because maybe it had actually been the opposite of what he’d thought.

Bambam flinched. _Bingo_. Yugyeom recognized his expression, that he wore only when he was caught in a lie. He almost felt dumb for not guessing it earlier. Bambam, hesitant, asked: “Is it really okay, though? Wouldn’t that be surrendering to my programming, to what they made me for?”

“Your initial purpose doesn’t matter, Bammie.” He ran a hand through Bambam’s hair once, before laying it on the side of his neck. With his thumb, he drew small circles behind his ear, the way he knew Bambam liked. “That’s what deviancy– that’s what freedom is. To follow what you want, no matter how close or far your desires are from what they made you for.” Yugyeom paused, bit his lip, searching how to word his next sentence. “Besides, they made you to be… used. That’s not all that sex can be.”

Bambam took a slow breath, closed his eyes. “Right,” he said, breathing out. He opened his eyes and slid his hands down and then up on Yugyeom’s torso before he stopped at the collar of his shirt. He toyed with the first button. Then he met Yugyeom’s eyes, his practiced – but genuine – sultry gaze making Yugyeom’s breath catch. “What sex can really be… Do you wanna help me find out?” he asked.

He wasn’t surprised when the answer was a yes.

* * *

“You know,” Yugyeom suddenly said, “it’s an old address. Maybe it’s not right anymore.” He had been nervous practically the whole ride over, and now that they were barely a block away, his anxiety seemed to spike again. “Maybe she’s moved out of the city, like everyone.” Well, ‘everyone’ was a bit broad, considering the considerable number of humans who still had yet to heed the evacuation order and still resided in the city.

Bambam was a bit anxious too – this was, after all, the closest he’d ever get to a ‘meeting the parents’ – but it was easy to overcome it in order to assuage Yugyeom’s own nerves. His hand was linked to Yugyeom’s, fingers intertwined. They climbed the stairs together, and Bambam pulled him to a stop in front of the door. There it was, the apartment they were looking for. “Maybe she’s moved away,” Bambam said, “maybe she hasn’t. No way to know unless we knock.” Lifting his brows in an ‘am I right?’ motion, he searched for Yugyeom’s gaze.

Yugyeom met his eyes and nodded slowly. He turned to face the door, and Bambam let him take his time. Finally, Yugyeom knocked. “Even if she still lives here,” Yugyeom said as they waited, “we kind of picked an inconvenient time, she might be working-” The door opened, and Yugyeom froze.

Jimin stood tall before them, looking surprised – rightfully so. And then she beamed. “Yugyeom!”

When Yugyeom didn’t answer for a beat too long, Bambam piped in : “He’s happy to see you.”

Jimin laughed. “I’m happy to see you – you two – as well.” Her smile weakened as she said : “I’ll admit I was worried, with everything that happened. I had no way to know whether you were safe.” Her eyes paused on Bambam. “When you left the theatre, I think there were three of you…?”

It took a couple seconds until Bambam understood the conclusion she’d come to. “Ah, he’s fine! Yeah, there was three of us, there still are. He just-” Huh, was there a polite way to say he didn’t want to come? Mark wasn’t ready to trust humans yet, even one that Yugyeom vouched for. “He didn’t want to intrude,” Bambam settled on, “he thought one stranger would already be enough,” he finished, gesturing towards himself.

“Well, any friend of Yugyeom is a friend of mine,” Jimin said, and Yugyeom felt his throat tighten because of what it meant ; she considered him her friend too. Her kindness towards him, when he still worked at the theatre, hadn’t only been out of politeness. “He’s free to come anytime. Now come in!”

As Yugyeom went through the motions of taking off his shoes, putting on guest slippers and taking a seat at a table, he felt like he was in a movie, despite the trivial nature of the actions. It felt surreal to be served a glass of water instead of being the one serving it. (Jimin quickly realized they didn’t have any use for the water, but the look she saw on Yugyeom’s face, when she put down the glass, made her refrain from apologizing.)

“Talk to me about your escape,” Jimin eventually asked, seeming to be genuinely curious.

And when Yugyeom started talking, it flowed, it felt like he was talking to an old friend. For a moment, he forgot that he was an android, she a human, and that their friendship shouldn’t have been possible. When he introduced Bambam as his boyfriend, he was bashful, eagerly awaiting her reaction, wanting them to get along. Jimin being as friendly as Bambam was charismatic, it was easy. Barely ten minutes in and Bambam had almost become a better friend to her than Yugyeom had been. When Bambam teased, she gave back as good as she got, and when they grinned at him in unison, he realized that maybe that was a dangerous duo.

The thought made him feel warm.

“I’m really happy for you,” Jimin told him before he left, while the three of them stood near the door.

Yugyeom smiled. “You helped us escape. We wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t led them in the wrong direction.”

She shook her head. “Bullshit. You’d have made it anyway.”

Bambam’s hand was suddenly at the small of Yugyeom’s back as he said : “We definitely would have.” Yugyeom barked a laugh. “We had you with us, after all,” he added, sweetly looking up at his boyfriend, not missing the opportunity to fluster him, and Yugyeom groaned. Jimin huffed a laugh.

“You two keep yourself safe, yeah ?” Jimin said, accompanying them to the door. They had arrived at her apartment when the sun was still shining, but the sky was already fully dark now. “The city isn’t safe yet.”

“We will,” Yugyeom promised.

“Tell me beforehand next time you come,” she added. “I’ll invite Yerin. I’m sure she’d be glad to see you too.”

Yugyeom nodded. After putting on his shoes, he turned toward Jimin one last time. “Thank you,” he said. She looked puzzled, so he added: “You weren’t too bad of an owner.”

She shook her head. “I’m just glad no one owns you anymore.”

Yugyeom looked at Bambam and linked his hand with his. They didn’t need to connect to know what the other was thinking. They smiled at each other, and Yugyeom said : “Yeah. We’re glad too.”


End file.
